



COI^««GMT7ie8». BY HAROLD ROOHBACM, 



llOOtbac|)'« Cull UMCriptiVje Catalogue of Dramas, Comedies, Comediettas, Farces, 
Tableaux-vivanfs, Guide-books, Novel Entertainments for Church, School and Parlor 
Exhibitions, etc., containing complete and explicit information, will be sent to any addres* 
on receipt of a stamp for return postage. Address as above. 



ROORBACH'S AMERICAN EDITION. 

PRlpE, 15 CENTS EACH. 

This series embraces the ^st of plays, suited to the present time. The reprints have 
been rigidly compared with the original acting copies, so that absolute purity of 
text and stage business is "warranted. Each play is furnished with an iritroduction 
of the greatest value to the stage manager, containing the argument or synopsis of 
incidents, complete lists of properties and costumes, diagrams of the stage settings 
and practicable scene-plots, with the fullest stage directions. They are hand- 
somely printelk fronj new electrotyoe plates, in readable type, on fine paper. 
Their complete introductions, textual accuracy, and mechanical excellence render 
these books far superior in every respect to all editions of acting plays hitherto 
published. 

:. ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD. A comic drama in two acts. Six 
male, three feniale characters. Time, two hours. 

2. A SCRAP OF PAPER. A comic drama in three acts. Six male, six female 

characters. Time, two hours. 

3. MY LORD YN livery. A farce in one act. Five male, three female charac- 

ters. Time, fifty minutes. 

4. CABMAN No. 93. A farce in one act. Two male, two female characters. 

i'lme, forty minutes. 

5. MILKY WHITE. A domestic drama in two acts. Four male, two female char- 

acters. Time, one hour and three quarters. 

6. PARTNE>Rs]^FOR LIFE. A comedy in three acts. Seven male, four female 

characters. Time, two hours. 

7. ■WOODCOCK'S LITTLE GAME. A comedy-farce in two acts. Four male, 

four female characters. Time, one hour. 

8. HOW TO TAME YOUR MOTHER-IN-LAW. A farce in one act. Four 

male, two female characters. Time, thirty-five minutes. 

9. LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET. A drama in two acts. Four male, three female 

characters. Time, one hour and a quarter. 

10. NOT SO BAD AFTER ALL. A comedy in three acts. Six male, five female 
characters. Time, one hour and forty minutes. 

11. WHICH IS ■'A'HICH ? A comedietta in one act. Three male, three female 
characters. Time, fifty minutes. 

12. ICI ON PARLE FRAN^AIS. A farce in one act. Three male, four female 
characters. Time, forty-five minutes. 

13. DAISY FARM. A drama in four acts. Ten male, four female characters. 
Time, two hours and twenty minutes. 

14. MARRIED LIFE. A comedy in three acts. Five male, five female characters. 

Thne, two hours. 

15. A PRETTY PIECE OF BUSINESS. A comedietta in one act. Two male, 
three feinale\har.icters. Time, fifty minute<. 

i5. LEND ME FIVE SHILLINGS. A farce in one act. Five male, two female 
characters. Time, one hour. 

17. UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.— Original Version. A drama in six acts. Fifteen 
male, seven female characters. Time, three hours. 

18. UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.— New Version. A drama in five acts. Seven 
male, five female characters. Time, two hours and a quarter. 

19. LONDON ASSURANCE. A comedy in five acts. Ten male, three female 
characters. Time, two hours and three quarters. 

20. ATCHI ! A comedietta in one act. Three male, two female characters. Time, 
forty minutes. 

21. "WHO IS W^HO ? A farce in. one act. Three male, two female characters. 
Time, forty minutes. 

2a. THE WOVEN WEB. A drama in four acts. Seven male, three female char- 
acters. Time, two hours and twenty minutes, 

^^S~A ny 0/ ibc above zviil be sent by viail^ f>ost-paii{, to any address, on receipt 
o/jAe />ri(c. ^ / 

HAROLD ROORBACH, Publisher, 9 Murray St., New York. 



WHICH IS WHICH? 

A COMEDIETTA IN ONE ACT 
BY 

S. THEYRE SMITH 



New American Edition Correctly Reprinted from the Ori- 
ginal Authorized Acting Edition, with the Original 
Cast of the Characters, Synopsis of Incidents, 
Time of Representation, Description of the 
Costumes, Scene and Property Plots, Dia- 
gram of the Stage Setting, Sides of 
Entrance and Exit, Relative Posi- 
tions of the Performers, Expla- 
nations OF THE Stage Direc- 
tions, ETC., AND ALL OF 

THE Stage Business. 

'And whilst T sing Euphebia's praise, 
I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.' —Prior. 

Copyright, 1889, by Harold Roorbach 




DEC 141889'^! 



NEW YORK 

HAROLD ROORBACH 

PUBLISHER 



v^-^ 







WHICH IS WHICH? 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



First produced at the Royal Court Theatre, July lo, 187 1. 



{Mr. Clayton, 
afterwards 
Mr. Belford. 

Mr. Gargle {his Uncle) Mr. H. Leigh. 

Paddles {an Oil and Colorman) Mr. C. Parry. 

{Miss Louisa Moore, 
afterwards 
Miss Kate Bishop. 
Bertha Bingham {her penniless Friend) .... Miss Bromley. 
M.'&s,.yi\\A^ {Capper's old Servant) Mrs. Stephens. 

Time of Representation — Fifty Minutes. 
SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Robert Capper, an obscure young artist indebted to all the local 
tradesmen, is called upon during his absence, by Mr. Paddles, dealer in 
artists' materials, for the purpose of settling an account of long standing. 
He is received and put off by Mrs. Mills, Capper's old servant, with a 
strong sense of propriety and a mania for cleaning everything but herself, 
who, before her master's return, contrives to work sad havoc in his 
studio. Capper returns, has some high words with Mrs. Mills, and looks 
at his correspondence before settling to work. Among other letters, he 
receives one from an old friend offering a position with good pay on a 
government expedition to the North Pole. "While writing a letter of 
acceptance he is interrupted by the entrance of his uncle Gargle, just 
returned from a ten years' sojourn on the continent with his ward, Annie. 
In reply to Gargle's inquiries concerning his nephew's health and condi- 
tion, the latter reveals the extent of his embarrassment and seeks his 
uncle's advice. Gargle recommends marrying an heiress and promises to 
send him one ostensibly to have a sketch made, in the person of his ward 
whom Capper remembers as " Puffy," his old playfellow. The young artist 
is enjoined to lose no time in coming to the point, as they are to leave for 
the north next morning. Capper, while hating the thought of marrying 
for money, suddenly remembers that he has been in love with Puffy all 
his life ; and though perhaps unconscious of this, even to himself, for some 
time, yet, feeling that his love has grown like the summer grass, he con- 



WHICH IS WHICH? 3 

eludes to cut the crop, now that the time has arrived, and make hay while 
the sun shines. After a wordy encounter between Capper and Mr. 
Paddles who makes another vain attempt to collect his bill, Annie, the 
heiress, and Bertha Bingham, her penniless friend, are ushered in by Mrs. 
Mills who announces " Miss Pestle " only, being informed that the one 
name will answer for both young ladies. Not knowing which is which, 
the visitors determining to keep him in the dark, Mr. Capper finds himself 
in a dilemma as to which he shall tell that her image has never been 
effaced from his heart. He tries in vain, by all sorts of devices, to dis- 
cover which is the heiress and which the poor relation, feeling that a 
mistake on his own part would prove ruinous. But finally having made 
up his mind on this point, in the course of his sketching, while resolutely 
uttering polite fictions to the supposed heiress, he finds himself irresistably 
drawn toward her companion, an attraction which he involuntarily mani- 
fests, to the delight of both girls. After Bertha's departure in a pre- 
tended fit of pique. Capper warms up, tells Annie frankly that he should 
not have known Miss Pestle from Adam, confesses his ignorance of which 
is which — knowing only which he should like it to be — arouses her sympathy 
by betraying his poverty in spite of himself, distresses her by announcing 
his departure for the North Pole, and so on until, finding that it is all up 
with him, poor relation or not, he impetuously declares that the only 
inducement for him to give up his wild project is that she will tell him to 
stay. Just as Capper has irretrievably committed himself, Mr. Gargle 
returns with Bertha and explains that he has committed himself to the 
heiress. Puffy rushes to his arms, and he finds that in letting his heart run 
away with him. Love — disdaining thoughts of poor or rich — has led him 
right and whispered Which is Which. 

COSTUMES. 

Capper. — Picturesque neglige dress. 

Gargle. — Attire of a substantial middle aged gentleman of leisure. 

Paddles. — Business suit. 



Be^tSa. } -Walking costumes. 

Mrs. Mills. — Plain dark dress, cap and apron. 



STAGE SETTING. 



bilerior Bacling 

— 'Foldiif Doors' 



ThTPne Table I Chairs 

Stool .^ 
Eiisel 



/oor 

I 



4 WHICH IS WHICH? 

Scene. — A Studio. Folding doors c. Door l. Throne r. c, with 
chair on it. Easel and stool R. Table and two chairs L. c. 

PROPERTIES. 

Drapery thrown over chair on throne. Duster for Mrs. Mills. Pic- 
ture (partly painted) on easel. Four letters for Mrs. Mills to bring on. 
"Writing materials and bell on table. Bell (clock) outside. Painter's can- 
vass on frame. Artist's colors, brushes, mahl stick, palette, etc. 
Unframed sketches, pieces of armor, one or two swords, casts, etc., about 
room. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

In observing, the player is supposed to be facing the audience. R., 
means right ; L., left ; c, centre ; R. c, right of centre ; l. c, left of 
centre ; Up Stage, toward the back ; Down Stage, toward the footlights. 

R. R. C. C. L. C. L. 

Note. — The text of this play is correctly reprinted from the original 
authorized acting edition, without change. The introductory matter has 
been carefully prepared by an expert and is the only part of diis book pro- 
tected by copyright. 




WHICH IS WHICH ? 

Scene. — An Artisf s Studio. A door L. ; foldi7ig doors at back, c. / 
a thrones, c. ; unfrajtied pictures and sketches all about the room ; 
pieces of old armour, one or two swords : casts; stattdingon throne, 
chair with a piece of drapery thrown over it. 

Enter Mrs. Mills, with a duster in her hand, Vadth^ks following, 

door C. 

Mrs. M. It's really no good your waiting, Mr. 

Paddles. Paddles, oil and colourman. 

Mrs. M. Mr. Paddles, you see Mr. Capper is not come into his 
studio yet, and till he does he never sees nobody. You must call 
again. 

Paddles. Call again, mum! call again! I do nothing but call 
again. I pass my whole existence calHng again, like a — like a 
echo. 

Mrs. M. I know nothing about echoes, Mr. Paddles. I only 
know it's no good your waiting here. You're interrupting me 
dreadful, and I so tell you. I want to getthis room a httle cleaner, 
and what chance is there of doing that as long as you're in it? 
Perhaps you may see him if you call later, but he don't like to be 
interfered with in a morning. Shall you keep him long? 

Paddles. That's as he pleases. It don't take long to pay money, 
though an unconscionable long time to get it. 

Mrs. M. Oh ! then you want 

Paddles. I want my bill paid. 

Mrs. M. Very well, I'll mention it to Mr. Capper, [dusting vari- 
ous things in the room) 

Paddles. It's seven pound three and fourpence farthing, but he 
needn't mind the farthing, tell him. 

Mrs. M. He won't mind the farthing, bless you ! You may trust 
him for that. 

Paddles. May I? I've trusted him too long for all of it, but — 
well, mum, I've got to go a short distance farther and I'll call as I 
return. 

Mrs. M. Very good ; you can do so if you like. 

Paddles. I shall expect Mr. Capper to have the money ready for 
me by then, mum. 

Mrs. M. Very well ; you can expect so if you please, [taking 
drapery off chair) 

5 



6 WHICH IS WHICH? 

Paddles. And if it's not ready — now mind, if it's not ready this 
time 

Mrs. M. You can call again, {shaking it in Paddle's directian) 

Paddles. No, blest if I do ; I've called too often as it is. 

Mrs. M. So Mr. Capper thinks, {folding it up) 

Paddles. Coming time after time in this way is simply a nuisance. 

Mrs. M. There ! his very words. 

Paddles. This is the last chance I'll give him. If he don't pay 
to-day I'll county-court him — tell him that — I'll county-court him 
as sure as a gun. Exit, c. 

Mrs. M. I'll not forget, [proceeding with her dusting) An ill- 
mannered fellow {glancing after him) — frightening a female by 
introducing fire-arms into his conversation in that way. He's a 
low-bred one, I know ; has no more patience with Mr. Robert, 
who being an artist naturally can't pay his bills, than he would 
with a common council man or a lord mayor. Poor Master 
Robert ! Oh, dear, dear ! What a state of dust everything is in. 
Tut, tut! But he always was a dirty man — from a child. Dear, 
dear! {turning the easel sharply round, and in so doing knocking off the 
picture) There! My goodness! If I haven't thrown it down. 
{picking it up) Oh! What a smudge ! Whatever will he say? 
{setting it on easel) He'll be dreadfully angry, {attempting to 
restore it with the duster) Oh ! that only makes it worse. There 
goes the other eye. I'll never touch his pictures again. There ! 
he's coming now. What shall I, — {turning easel with its face to the 
wall) 

Enter Capper, door l. 

Capper. Now then, what have you been doing in this studio, 
eh ? You've never dusted it ? 

Mrs. M. You may well say " Never dusted it," sir, indeed. It 
wanted it awful. 

Capper. What ! You have ? Bless my soul ! How often have 
I told you to touch nothing in this room. Mills ! 

Mrs. M. {niancEuvring to keep herself between Capper and the 
easel) But it was so dirty, sir ! 

Capper. Dirty ! There be off with you ! Go and flap that pes- 
tilent rag of yours in some other room than this. Be off. do ! 
Here ! Stop ! Confound — Where's my drapery, eh ? Where's my 
drapery ? 

Mrs. M. Drapery, sir? 

Capper. Yes, of course. Where is it? The dress that was on 
that chair, eh? The drapery that I've been painting for the last 
three days in my " Venus and Adonis " picture ? 

Mrs. M. Oh, that, sir ! I dusted it, 7\v\d— {holding it out to him) 

Capper. Dusted again ! Gad ! I believe you'd dust a bin of 
port wine, and sweep up one's ancestors. Dusted ! Why, you 



WHICH IS WHICH? 7 

sacrilegious old female, if you were to see an angel you'd pluck 
his wings to make a feather brush — I swear you would. Don't 
answer me, but be off. You'd black the sandals of the Apollo 
with "Day and Martin;" you'd scrub an Old Master as if you were 
an Academician ; you'd sand-paper the Pyramids ; you'd — you'd 
— {^she runs off) furniture polish the multiplication table ; you'd — 
Plague take her ! Three days' work spoiled ! — just my luck ! An 
old hag with a mania for cleaning everything, except herself, [try- 
ing to re-arrange the drapery) Jove ! yes ; she's wonderfully 
unselfish in that respect ; never thinks of herself for a moment. 
Pah ! it's no use. Let me see, how did it come ? [turning picture 
round) Strike me speechless! she has dusted Venus! I won't 
bear this. No, hang it ! I will not bear this. Mills! [ringing bell 
violently) Mills ! confound you ! Mills ! That woman would stick 
at nothmg ; can't keep her hands off the Immortals themselves, 
who, of course, have no connection with dust at all. Mills ! 

Enter Mrs. Mills, delicately, C. 

Oh, here you are. Look there ! Do you see ? Look there ! you 
— picture's spoiled, you know ! Picture's spoiled! You've rub- 
bed 

Mrs. M. Oh, if you please, sir, Mr. Paddles called this morning 
to say that if you didn't pay his bill in the course of the day he'd 
county-court you — as sure as a gun. 

Capper. Mr. Paddles be shot ! Look at this, I say. 

Mrs. M. And I forgot to mention, sir, that the milkman said if 
you could conveniently settle 

Capper. Hang the milkman ! Tell him it's not convenient — or 
tell him I'll settle it with the water rates when they come round. 
But hold your tongue and listen to me. You see what you've done. 
Now I won't endure it any 

Mrs. M. The baker's very words, sir, this blessed morning. "I 
won't endoor it," says he ; and went on so violent, gestikylating 
and actually kicking his own bread basket in his anger that I shut 
the door in his face. 

Capper. Then now shut the door in your own face, and let your 
tongue "play the fool nowhere but in 's own house," do you 
hear ? — or 

Mrs. M. In fact it's the same with all the tradesmen now — as for 
the chimney-sweep I really don't like to meet him, he looks so 
black. 

Capper. Confound the tradesmen ! Dunning for money is part 
of their business. Look at this. 

Mrs. M. [turning modestly away) You'll excuse me, sir. 

Capper. Ah ! you may well blush for it. 

Mrs. M. Blush for it! I should think so. [with a glance at it) 
No clothes indeed ! The impudent thing. 



8 WHICH IS WHICH? 

Capper. What do you say ? Do you see ? 

Mrs. M. Yes, sir, I don't think it at all proper. 

Capper. What ? 

Mrs. M. Painting them pictures. I think it's himmoral. 

Capper. {asto7iished) You think it's — why, you ugly 

Mrs. M. I beg your pardon, Master Roben ; no uglier than 
you are. {angrily) 

Capper. Ha ! ha ! Why, you old fool 

Mrs. M. [angrily) What do you mean, sir? No older than you 
are. 

Capper. Oh, come ! and according to your own account you 
knew me a considerable time before I was born. 

Mrs. M. Yes, I did — [a sob) — and I never thought. Master 
Robert — [a sob) — that you'd have called your old nurse a f-fool. 
{weeping) 

Capper, [to himself) Ha, ha ! I'm done, of course. One's cer- 
tain to get the worst of it in a squabble with a woman. Here, I 
say, Mills! There ! Never mind, I didn't mean to wound your 
feelings — 'pon my word I didn't. But I must really begin to 
work. Now, keep that duster quiet ; and just fetch me the letters 
I left on the breakfast table, will you ? I've never looked at them 
yet. [she goes through folding doors C.) Ten o'clock! 1 must set to 
work, indeed ; though what the dickens is the good of my paint- 
ing when no one will buy my pictures ? [she returns, and hands 
him the letters) Thanks! Now be off, there's a good soul. 

Exit Mrs. Mills, C, stealthily passing her duster over a table as 

she goes. 

One, two, three, [turning over letters) Gad! I shiver at letters, 
now ; but I suppose I had better open them, [irritably) Confound 
them! They must be opened, [on the point of opening 07u) No, 
hang it ; that is a lawyer's billet doux, I'll swear. We'll keep 
that for a bonne bouche at last. Here, I say, though, this one 
looks Hke a lady's hand, [opening it hastily) Ugh! " Per account 
rendered June, '67." — June, '67! What a memory they must 
have. I can't think how they recollect these little things such a 
confounded time. I'd quite forgotten it, I declare ; and— and I 
shouldn't wonder if I forgot it again.— " With thanks for past 
favours." Oh, I dare say ; I wish they'd discover a pleasanter 
way of showing their gratitude. And what is this? [opening 
another) " If the enclosed account is not settled immediately, Jor- 
rocks, Spankdoodle, Son, and Jorrocks, will feel it necessary to 
put the matter into the hands of their lawyers without further 
delay." Gad ! [as if appalled at such ingratitude) Men who have 
had my custom for years. But there we go ; each step brings us 
lower. Now for the cHmax ! They talked of the devil, and here 
no doubt he appears, [opening third letter) I say, what's this? 



WHICH IS WHICH? 9 

This ain't a lawyer's letter. Why, it's from Joe Gray town, [read- 
ing it hastily) 'Um, 'um, 'um, hallo ! 'um, 'urn, 'um, I say, 'um, 
'um, 'um. Well, now that's uncommon jolly of him — uncommon 
jolly of Joe, upon my word it is. 'Um, *um — "going as surgeon 
to a Government Expedition bound for the Arctic Regions on an 
enquiry into the character of the Flora in the immediate vicinity 
of the North Pole." — Umph ! Queer notion. W^ho on earth 
expects to find flowers up there? Oh, Government Expedition; 
ah, that explains it. — " They are very hard up for an artist to 
accompany the expedition. Will you come ? It will be a fine 
opportunity for observing nature under a perfectly new aspect." — 
Ay, no doubt, under perfectly new snow every morning. — " If you 
will apply or authorize me to do so, they will jump at you." — 
[reflectively) Fancy being jumped at by Government. — " Cap- 
ital pay, everything found, splendid companions," — 'um, 'um — 
" and we shan't be away more than — four yea.rs." -{startled) Oh, I 
say! — "barring accidents." — {aghast) Oh, the dickens. — "We 
want a real sharp fellow hke yourself." — {after a pause) He's an 
amusing chap, is Joe. — " Sharp as a needle since we are pointing 
to the north." — Ha, ha! — " It will be the very place for you, as 
painters always look out for a north aspect, you know." — What a 
facetious dog he is! 'Um, 'um. — " From yours, ever, J. Gray- 
town. P. S. Bring heaps of white paint with you ; the other col- 
ours are comparatively unimportant. PP. S. With the exception 
of black, of course, for it is night for nine months of every year. 
Reply by return as we start in a fortnight." A fortnight! Im- 
possible ! Out of the question ! A fortnight to prepare for a four 
years' winter and possible accidents! {getting out paper a?td ink) 

No ; if I had had rather more time to prepare I might have 

(Postman's knock, l.) Oh, that confounded postman again! Gad, 
if I went to the North Pole I should escape that pestilent postman 
at any rate. But four years ! {sits and writes) " My dear Joe, a 
thousand thanks for thinking of me for this Arctic business, but — " 

Enter Mrs. Mills, c, with a letter — a duster in her right hand. 

Mrs. M. A letter, sir. 

Capper, {taking it) Thanks! {as she passes her duster over the 
corner of the table) Now then ; you're dusting again ! 

Mrs. M. No, I'm not, sir. What do you mean, Mr. Robert? 
Exit, C. , passing her duster over a chair as she leaves. 

Capper, {while opening letter) " A thousand thanks for thinking 
of me for this Arctic business, but — {his eye falls oji letter — he stares 
— then continues writing) — but I accept your offer without a 
moment's hesitation. Please make the application forme at once, 
and believe me — " {as he folds and directs it) A lawyer's letter at 
last, by Jove! {calls) Mills! Flight's my only chance! {calls) 
Mills! 



lO WHICH IS WHICH? 

Door opens and Gargle enters, c. 

Here ! {without turning) Post this at once, will you ? [holding it 
out behind him and glancing at law-letter) Well. Why don't you 
take it? [turning and jumping up quickly) You're dusting some- 
thing, [perceives Gargle) Oh ! 'pon my word, I beg pardon — I 
thought it was — why, bless my soul ! — am I mistaken, or — Uncle 
Gargle ? [tossing letter on table and going towards him) 

Gargle. Well, Bob, you've not forgotten me in spite of my ten 
years of Continental sojourn, eh? I wouldn't let her announce 
me, but took the Hberty of walking straight up. And how are 
you, my boy ? You look blooming enough at any rate. 

Capper. Do I, sir? Then my appearance belies me terribly, for 
nothing could be seedier than my present condition, [solemnly) 
Uncle Gargle, you see before you a ruined man. I'm in the last 
stage of embarassment. 

Gargle. I'm sorry to hear it. Bob. Whom do you owe this 
money to ? Give me the history of your embarassment. 

Capper. The history of my embarassment is a history in several 
books — hang it ! Whom do I owe it to ? All my tradesmen. 

Gargle. Yes, yes ; but what is the amount? 

Capper. Well, sir, I — in fact, you see, a freedom from care is so 
necessary in the cultivation of the arts that I make it a point never 
to burden my mind with any troublesome details. 

Gargle. Oh, indeed, Bob — your creditors scarcely look at the 
matter in the same philosophical fashion, I should say, eh ? 

Capper. Well no, sir; they write pretty regularly, to say the 
truth, but it doesn't answer — neither do I. 

Gargle. Ah ! and what, pray, are the assets ? 

Capper. Sir ? 

Gargle. How much can you muster to release yourself? What's 
the sum — in round numbers, now ? 

Capper. I can give it you in one very round number — nothing. 
Come, sir — [flinging himself in a grotesque attitude into a chair) — I 
wouldn't have troubled you with all this, but the fact is, something 
must be done to satisfy the constant demands upon me for money, 
I naturally turn to my nearest relative for assistance. Come, 
Uncle Gargle, put yourself into my position, and tell me what I 
must do. 

Gargle. As to putting myself into your position, Bob, that's quite 
impossible for a man of my years and figure. But as regards what 
you are to do — Will you marry ? 

Capper. Marry ! [staring in astonishment) Don't I tell you that 
I'm worried out of my life already? How can I marry without a 
penny to bless myself with ? 

Gargle. Has your education been so neglected. Bob, as to leave 
you in ignorance that there are in Natural History certain creat- 
ures called heiresses ? 



WHICH IS WHICH? II 

Capper. Of course not ; but what heiress would be fool enough 
to marry me, I should like to know. 

Gargle. Suppose I could find you one, would you marry her ? 

Capper. Would I ? Like a bird, sir. 

Gargle. Give me a distinct answer. Bob. If I find you a girl 
with a fortune, you will marry her ? 

Capper. Yes, I say, like a — 

Gargle. It's not a question of likes, I tell you. You will, then? 

Capper. Yes. 

Gargle, [rising] Good ; I'll send her ! 

Capper, [aghast) Send her ! Send her where ? 

Gargle. Where! Why here, of course, [going) She s calling a 
few doors off with a Miss Bingham, a penniless young lady of her 
acquaintance — a poor relation , in fact. 

Capper. [Jumping up) No, but — I say — here! Stop! What's 
her name "i What s she like ? How old is she ? Does she drop 
her H's ? Has she nice hands and feet ? Here ; stop, sir ! Where 
are you going to ? 

Gargle. It seems to me, young man, that you wish to get off 
your engagement. 

Capper. Hang it ! I'm not engaged yet. You're in such a 

Enter Mrs. Mills, c, with a letter. 

Well, who's that from ? 

Mrs. M. Mr. Paddles has called again, sir ; and I was to give 
you this. It's his account, he says, and he says he'll wait for it. 

Capper. I know he will. What is the use of a man coming to 
another man's house at this time in the morning to enunciate 
truisms of that kind ? 

Mrs. M. But he says he can't wait any longer. 

Capper. Very well, then show him out, 

Mrs. M. No, but Mr. Robert, sir, he says 

Capper. I don't care what he says. You see I'm engaged, don't 
you. Get him away somehow. Tell him I'm engaged — engaged 
with the Governor of the Bank of England, if you hke. Get rid 
of him somehow. Dust him out or something. 

Exit Mrs. Mills, C, after passing her duster over Qk^qi.^'^ hat the 
wrong way. 

Gargle. Well, Bob, what's your decision? 

Capper. Oh, yes, sir! I'll do it. I'll marry anything in the 
shape of money. Only tell me her name. 

Gargle. Name ! Miss Pestle. 

Capper. Pestle ! Pestle ! Why, she's your 

Gargle. She was left to my guardianship when very young. You 
must remember her, I'm sure. Miss Pestle. She has a nice for- 



12 WHICH IS WHICH? 

tune of her own, and as I take a great interest in you, Bob, I 
don't see why you should not have the money as well as another. 
Miss Pestle, recollect. {going) 

Capper. I remember her, of course. I shall know her again, 
trust me. Little girl about that high. 

Gargle, [coldly) Yes, but she's higher than that now. 

Capper. Of course she is. Of course ; Puffy, I used to call her 
— don't you recollect? And she used to call me Cobby. Puffy ! 
Gad, I shall be rejoiced to see her again. Little girl, ten years 
old. I recollect — Ha, ha ! 

Gargle, {severely) But she's older than that now. 

Capper. Ha, ha ! Of course she is. Know her again ! I should 
know her among a thousand : httle short sleeves with pink ribbons 
in 'em, and a pink sash, and httle short petticoats just down to 
there, and 

Gargle, [angrily) But, confound it, sir, she wears them longer 
than that now. Don't be a fool, Bob ; let's have no false senti- 
ment about it. You're in want of money ; she has got more than 
she knows what to do with. That's reason enough for your mar- 
x^\x\%.[pausing) By the way, you had better lose no time in com- 
ing to the point, as we leave for the north to-morrow morning for 
a stay of three months. 

Capper. To-morrow morning ? [aside) And before they return I 
shall have left for the — North for a stay of four years, [aloud] 
But, hang it, sir, I can scarcely propose to her at the first inter- 
view. 

Gargle. Can't you? And why not, pray? You've known her 
ever since she was born. What would the fellow have ? You 
don't require a longer acquaintance than that, I suppose? 

Capper. Well, but sir, she mayn't be as" prepared to like me as 
I am to like her. 

Gargle. Oh, don't you be afraid. She retained a ridiculously 
affectionate recollection of you ; and when we were in Italy never 
saw a picture without wondering whether Bob could paint like 
that, or what Bob would give to be there ; and it was Bob this 
and Bob that and Bob t'other, till I was sick of your very name, 
sir. 

Capper. Thank you, sir ; I am exceedingly sorry that 

Gargle. Oh ! a fig for your apologies. Marry her, and I'll for- 
give you. I'll send for — ah! for you to make a sketch of her for 
me. I'll send her at once ; and if iMon't see you again before 
we leave, why — good-bye, Bob. Don't come down. Good-bye. 

Exit, door L. 

Capper, [looking after him) Stingy brute ! Instead of behaving 
like a man and a brother — I mean an uncle — and ransoming me 
out of hand, he advises me to sell myself for good and all. I 
hate the thought of marrying for money. But no — hang it ! this 



WHICH IS WHICH? 13 

is not marying for money. By Jove ! now I come to think of it 
I've been in love with that girl all my life, {affectionately) Puffy, 
Puffy ! I declare I have. And though perhaps I have been 
unconscious even to myself of this for some time, yet that proves 
nothing, for love 

" Grows like the summer grass, fastest by night. 
Unseen but crescive in his faculty." 

And that is my case all over. My love has grown like the sum- 
mer grass ; so, hang it all, let's cut the crop now the time's 
arrived, and make hay while the sun shines ; for this perpetual 
dunning is no longer to be borne — and as for four years in the 
Arctic Regions in search of an impossible Flora! — 'gad, we shall 
spend our time in singing to the Esquimaux, " Shepherds, tell us 
true, have you seen your Flora pass this way." [a knock at the 
door) Come in. 

Enter Paddles, c. 

Oh! Mr. — Mr. Paddles, I think. No, nothing to-day, Mr. Pad- 
dles, thank you. 

Paddles. You mistake the purpose of my call, sir. I took the 
liberty of stepping up, Mr. Capper 

Capper. Yes, I'm glad you see the matter in its right light. It 
was a hberty, Mr. Paddles. 

Paddles. I am sorry you think so, sir ; but I came for my 
money. 

Capper. Ah ! you reheve me. I was afraid you came for mine. 

Paddles. Money owing, allow me to remind you, sir, belongs to 
the creditor — not the debtor ! 

Capper. No doubt you're right. At any rate in the present 
instance, I can take my oath [feeling in his pockets) that it doesn't 
belong to the debtor. 

Paddles. The money you owe me is in reahty mine, and I've a 
right to demand it when I want it. I want it now, as I owe it to 
my landlord, and must pay it to-morrow morning. 

Capper. Indeed! So this money, after all, belongs, on your 
own showing,, to your landlord — does not belong to you at all ! 
Now, what the dickens have I to do with your landlord ? 

Paddles. What, sir! It's no good talking. I must have this 
money, or I can't pay my bills 1 

Capper. Can't pay your bills ? 

Paddles. No, sir, I can't! 

Capper. You can't! And yet you have the face to come to me 
and insist upon my doing what you confess your inabihty to do 
yourself! Is this reasonable now? 

Paddles. I don't want to argue, sir. 



14 WHICH IS WHICH? 

Capper. Neither do I — neither do I ! 

Paddles. What I want is money ! 

Capper. So do I — most confoundedly ! 

Paddles. I want money, I repeat ! 

Capper. Exactly what I'm always repeating — but I never get it! 

Paddles, [violently) But I intend to get mine before I go. 

Capper. Ah, but the best intentions sometimes go for nothing. 

Paddles. And if I don't 

Capper. Yes — I'm really curious as to the alternative. 

Paddles. I'll put you in the Court. 

Capper. Ah ! [rising] Good morning ! 

Paddles. I'll put you in the Court as sure as you're born, and 
you ought to be ashamed of yourself. 

Capper. Perhaps; but I was born to blush unseen, so — [knock] 
Gad! there's a knock. That must be Miss Pestle, surely. I 
must get him out. {to him) That's all settled, then. I knew that 
we should understand each other before we had done. This way ; 
this way out. [opening door L.) You'll put me in the Court? Yes, 
and present me yourself, won't you? [aside] By Jove ! there's the 
rustle of a dress ! [aloud] So good of you ! — come along. (Exit 
with Paddles, l., who is speechless with indignation] 

As they go out by side door, Mrs. Mills enters through folding doors 
conducting Annie and Bertha. 

Mrs. M. What name shall I say, please ? 

Bertha. Miss Pestle. 

Mrs. M. Only Miss Pestle ? 

Bertha. If you say Miss Pestle it will be quite enough. 

Exit Mrs. Mills, l. 

Annie. My dear Bertha, why not say both names ? He will think 
it so strange. 

Bertha. What will he think strange ? 

Annie. Why finding two people here, when he only expected 
one. 

Bertha. But, Annie, you surely don't suppose that Mr. Capper 
expects Miss Pestle to come and call upon him all by herself, do 
you ? He'd think that strange, if you Hke. 

Annie. I don't see why he should. I shouldn't if I were a man. 
Besides, Bertha, I believe he won't know which of us is which ! 

Bertha. Not ? Oh, Annie, I've such an idea : let us try whether 
he will or not. 

Annie. Try ? How ? 

Bertha. Why, leave him to find it out for himself. Throw no 
light upon the matter at all. Let him — what do they call it ? — 
evolve it from his own inner consciousness, you know. 

Annie. No, no. Bertha ! 

Bertha. Yes, yes, you must, to oblige me — come, you will. 



WHICH IS WHICH? 15 

There ! hark! there's a door banged. He's coming. What grand 
fun ! Look at this picture. What is it, I wonder. 

Enter CAPPER, lightly, L. — He stops suddenly. 

Capper, [aside] Two of 'em! P'lushed a brace, by George! Well, 
but — hang it all ! — which is 

Bertha, [the Girls have their backs to him and are looking at 
picture) I think it's some one between Scylla and Charybdis. 

Capper, [aside) I think it is, indeed, [calling through door in a 
loud ivhisper) Here, Mills ! Mills I 

Enter Mrs. Mills, door l. 

Capper. Which is which ? Which is Miss Pestle, eh ? 

Mrs. M. Don't know, sir. They said if I said Miss Pestle it 
would do for both. 

Capper. Did they ? By Jove, it's done for me as well. Well, 
but, what is the other one's name —whichever is the other? 

Mrs. M. I can't say, sir. 

Capper. Then you can go. Mills. (Exit Mrs. Mills, C.) Old 
idiot ! 'Pon my word, this is excessively nasty. How the dickens 
am I to tell her that her image has never been effaced from my 
heart when I don't know her again when I see her? Well, it will 
be easy enough to find out. Here goes. 

Annie. I'll tell you what I think it is : it's the Judgment of Paris 
— only where' s Venus ? 

Capper, [aside] By Jove ! I should be at no loss where to look 
for Venus. An uncommonly pretty girl, [advancing) Will you 
let me explain ? [the Girls turn and bow — Capper bows) It is 
intended to illustrate the lines, "How happy could I be with either 
were t'other dear charmer away," and if it is a success — [aside) — 
the picture is, as the papers say, a worthy reflex of the painter's 
mind, [pulls easel round slightly, and, while doing so, speaks with- 
out looking at either Girl) May I hope that you like it, Miss 
Pestle ? [listening eagerly for the answer) 

Both. Oh yes. 

Capper, [aside] One at a time, please. 

Bertha. It's very pretty. 

Capper, [aside] This is she. [turning to her) 

Annie, [in a voice of deep admiration) It's charming. 

Capper, [aside] No, this is she. [in a soft voice turning towards 
her) And no one's praise could be so delighful as 

Bertha. Charming is no word for it. 

Capper, [aside] Stay. I'm wrong, [in a soft voice to Bertha) 
The labor of years is more than repaid by approval from such lips 
as — 

Annie, [pointing to another picture) Dear me, what a lovely face ! 
Exactly like one of Lawrence's. 



1 6 WHICH IS WHICH f 

Capper, [aside) H'm ! First impressions are truest it seems. 
This is she. [in a soft voice /<? Annie) Do you think it so lovely ? 
Ah, it is a reflected beauty that shines upon the picture now, and 
gives it — 

Bertha, [suddenly) Oh, dear! 

Capper. Eh ? 

Bertha. A Raffaelle, surely, [pointing to another) An original 
Raffaelle. 

Capper, [aside) Second thoughts are best after all. This is she. 
[aloud, in a soft voice to Bertha) Not a Raffaelle. No, " A poor 
thing, but mine own." You look with too favorable an eye at it. 
Ah ! how have I longed for the moment when I might show these 
efforts of my brush to her — the thought of whom — 

Annie, [aside) This will never do. [aloud) Surely, Mr. Capper, 
I have seen that picture somewhere ? [indicating picture) Now, 
where.-* It is so pleasant wandering about a treasure chamber 
of this kind, and having the genius of the place at one's elbow 
ready to explain everything. Oh ! it must be a delightful thing to 
be an artist. Is it not now ? 

Capper, [meaningly) Yes, now it is indeed. 

Bertha. And such an artist, who is certain as possible to reach 
the top of the tree. 

Capper. Well, perhaps, [aside) for I'm decidedly up it already. 

Pixmvt. [looking round) Such charming conceptions ! (Capper 
turns to her) 

bertha. Such felicitous execution ! (Capper turns to her) 

Annie. Such beautiful color ! (Capper to her) 

Bertha. Such splendid drawing ! (Capper to her) 

Annie. Oh! it's delightful ! (Capper to her) 

Bertha. It is a privilege indeed ! (Capper to her) 

Capper, [aside] Well, I haven't a notion which is she. But — 
this is pleasant enough, but — hang it !— there's no time to lose. I 
must find out which of them is 

Annie. But that picture ! It's a copy from some Old Master, I 
suppose. Now, where have I seen it ? 

Bertha. Wait. Somewhere abroad, I'm sure. 

Capper, [aside) Now, then, if the other has not been abroad 

Annie. Yes, abroad somewhere. 

Capper, [aside) She has, though. 

Bertha. Stop ; somewhere in Italy, 

Capper, [aside] Now I have them, they've never both been to — 

Annie. I know, Rome. 

Capper, [aside] Done again, [turns away] 

Bertha. I think not, dear ; isn't it Florence ? 

Annie. No, love, it's Rome, I'm sure ; I am as positive as I am 
that my name's 

Capper, [aside i.., eagerly) What? 



WHICH IS WHICH ? \7 

Bertha, [quickly) Don't be too positive, dear. 

Annie. I appeal to Mr. Capper, then. Where is the original, 
Mr. Capper ? 

Bertha. Yes, where ? 

Capper, [aside] I have them now, [aloud) Ha, ha ! Miss Pes- 
tle's right. Miss Pestle's right. 

Annie, [aside to Berth A) How deep of him, for I'm sure he 
does not know which of us it is. 

Bertha, [aside to her) Not deep enough, though, [aloud) Gra- 
cious, was that twelve striking? We've not a moment to lose if 
we're to be painted. 

Capper. Ah, yes, I understand that I am to have the honor of 
painting Miss Pestle. 

Bertha. Oh, both of us. 

Annie. Yes, both of us. Now, Mr. Capper, how will you have 
us? 

Capper, [aside) Another chance ! [aloud) Why, I thmk that if 
Miss Pestle were to sit down, and — and the other lady whom I 
have not the pleasure of knowing 

Bertha. Oh, of course ! Dear me ! How absurd ! 

Capper. Yes, ha, ha ! very, [aside] Now for it. 

Both Girls. Miss Bingham ! 

Capper, [aside] Gad ! — the poor relation — a mistake now would 
be ruin; but — confound it. [bowing gejierally) What's to be done ? 
They make their responses as if they were in church, all together. 
[aloud) Then if Miss — Bringem, did you say, Miss Pestle ? 

Both. Bingham ! Bingham ! 

Bertha. No R. 

Capper. Oh ! no R. [aside, as he fetches canvas] There again. 
All their replies are Greek to me — most particularly Greek, for 
whenever I ask a question that should clear up the mystery, they 
answer in the dual number — and — hang it ! — I must make love to 
one at once — one at once ! Why, of course, I can't make love 
to both together. 

Annie. Now shall we get upon this thing, Mr. Capper? [pointing 
to throne) 

Capper. Yes, mount the throne, please. 

Annie. The throne you call it, eh ? Then the Arts are not, like 
Literature, a Republic, it seems. 

Capper. Most certainly not ; they are a Tyranny, a Tyranny of 
Forty. Now, [placing chair on throtie] if [to Bertha) as I sug- 
gested before, you would sit 

Bertha. Eh ! I ? 

Capper. Eh ? Oh, no, of course it was— (/^ Annie)— I thought 
that if you would sit 

Annie. I now, eh ? 

Capper, [much embarrassed) You now, ha, ha ! [aside, turn- 



1 8 WHICH IS WHICH? 

ing away) Confound that old Gargle for leaving me in the dark 
in this way. Oh, if our positions were only reversed; if I were 
the uncle and he the nephew, wouldn't 1 cut him off with a shill- 
ing ! [turning, and struck suddenly with the pretty position into 
which the Girls had fallen] .Oh, capital ! Don't move, pray ; 
that will do admirably. I'll just put it in as rapidly as I can on 
this small canvas, [beginning to sketch) It's a delicious position, 
so easy and natural. 

Bertha. May we speak ? 

Capper. By all means. However good their position I could 
not expect two ladies to sit for an hour without speaking, of 
course. 

Bertha. That would not be easy certainly. 

Capper. And I'm sure it would not be natural. 

Annie. I don't see that it would be either difficult or unnatural. 
Mr. Capper thinks, of course, that a woman must be talking, and 
can't keep a secret, and all that nonsense. 

Capper. Pardon me ! I think that a woman can keep a secret, 
confoundedly tight! [aside) When she doesn't know that it is a 
secret. 

Annie. Well, I've a good mind not to open my mouth till the 
sitting's over, to prove it to you. 

Capper. What! won't you answer if I ask you questions? 

Annie. If you do, I shall answer as literally as possible ; so you 
may begin your catechism as soon as you like. 

Capper, [aside) That's a good notion, [aloud) Ha, ha! catechism 
you call it, eh ? Suppose I begin regularly catechism-fashion 
then. What is your name ? Ha, ha ! [watching eagerly) 

Annie, [promptly) N. or M. 

Bertha, [aside to her) Well done. 

Capper, [aside) Hang it! [aloud) Ha, ha! that's no answer. 
[aside) The little witch ! I declare she'd puzzle an Old Bailey 
Lawyer, [the Girls whisper, and smile) 

Bertha. Do you think I am much changed since you saw me 
last, Mr. Capper? 

Capper, [startled and staring at them) Eh ! I beg pardon. 

Bertha. Do you think I am much altered ? Should you have 
known your old fiiend again ? 

Capper, [aside) There, the murder's out! [aloud) Know you 
again. Miss Pestle! — [aside) Hang it! I wish it had been the 
other one. [aloud) Know you again ! I should have known you 
anywhere — anywhere, [aside) How utterly changed she is. 

Annie. But, like all true geniuses, Mr. Capper makes no parade 
of his knowledge. 

Bertha. You've not forgotten me, then, all this long time I've 
been in Italy ? 

Capper. Forgotten you, Miss Pestle ! I should not have forgotten 



WHICH IS WHICH? 19 

you if you had been all the time at the Antipodes, [aside) Never 
saw anybody so altered, [aloud) Do you think 1 could forget 
what I have had by heart for years ? What makes you think so ? 
Have my eyes played the traitors to my heart? 

Annie. Oh, dear, no, Mr. Capper, your eyes were honest enough. 
They betrayed no recognition at all, I assure you. But I beg par- 
don, I'm afraid my talking must interrupt you sadly, Mr. Capper. 

Capper. On the contrary, it helps me. I always get on better 
when I work to music, [aside] Hang it ! Why did I not say that 
to the heiress ? 

Bertha. There, my dear, what are you going to do for that ? 

Annie. If Mr. Capper will let me get up, I'll make a curtsey. 

Capper. No, no ; don't move, pray — unless I'm tiring you. If 
you are tired 

Annie. I'm not at all tired, indeed. I could sit as long as you 
wanted me, I'm sure. 

Capper. Then you could sit for ever, [aside) There I go again. 

Bertha, [aside) I think I'd better get out of the way. 

Capper, [aside) What a fool I am! I keep saying these things 
to the wrong one. I must say something pointed to Miss Pestle — 
something warm, [aloud) Did you — hem! — did you like the 
Sunny South, Miss Pestle ? 

Bertha, Oh yes, it was so bright and cheerful. England seems 
such a gloomy place after it. 

Capper. Ah ! [aside ) Hate a woman who slights her native 
country, [aloud) I suppose that we are scarcely as well off for 
sunshine- 

Bertha. Oh, the sun that you get here is not the real sun, I as- 
sure you. The true sun never leaves dear Italy. Your sunlight 
is merely 

Annie. Sunlight adulterated for importation to England, eh, my 
dear ? Well, for my part I prefer the adulteration. 

Capper. Ha, ha, ha! [aside) Give me a girl who'll stand up 
for her country — even to its weather. That's something like patri- 
otism. 

Bertha. And as if England were not bad enough, we are to go 
still farther north to-morrow. Oh, dear ! Scotland for three 
months — ^just fancy that. 

Capper, [aside) What is that to the North Pole for four years? 
Just fancy that, [aloud) Ah ! you don't like Scotland? 

Bertha. Oh no ! I wish there were not such a place on the map. 
I should like to scratch it out, I declare. 

Capper. Ah ! but that's not to be done. If scratching would do 
it, the natives would have had it out long since. And do you go 
too, Miss Bingham ? 

Annie. Yes, Mr. Capper. 

Capper. And with the same pleasant anticipations? 



20 WHICH IS WHICH? 

Annie. Oh, no, I am very fond of Scotland. 

Capper. Happy Scotland ! 

Bertha, {aside) I shall retire ; I'm in the way, evidently, {aloud) 
O-o-oh ! 

Annie. What is the matter, dear ? 

Capper. Are you ill, Miss Pestle ? What's the matter! 

Bertha. Oh, my — my foot's asleep; I must rise ; my foot's 
asleep, {rising, and limping about) 

Annie. But you'll spoil the picture. 

Bertha. Oh ! I can't help that. 

Capper. Well, is the foot awake now ? 

Bertha. Oh, no, no ! {limping about) 

Capper. Regular case of somnambulism, then ! 

Bertha, {coming round till she gets in sight of the picture) 
Well, I never ! 

Annie. What's the matter now ? 

Capper. Eh! anything wrong ! 

Bertha. Wrong? Why, I declare, he has never done a bit of 
me. He has devoted himself entirely to you, and has expressed 
me by one — two — three lines as if I were a triangle. (Annie 
makes a gesture of delight) 

Capper. I'm sure, I beg a thousand pardons 

Bertha. Oh, don't attempt to apologize, Mr. Capper. Three 
lines ! Yes ! Now, do I bear any resemblance toatriangle — do I } 

Annie. Well, my dear, I think that in your present frame of 
mind two lines, if properly arranged, {crosses her fingers) would 
represent you very fairly without any necessity for a third. 

Bertha. Ah, you may laugh ; but if you'd been treated as if you 
were a proposition of Euchd, you wouldn't take it so quietly. 
Pray, put the letters at all my corners, Mr. Capper, and make a 
perfect problem of me. 

Annie. My dear, you are a perfect problem already without the 
necessity for any letters. What makes you so cross? Mr. Cap- 
per must paint one at once. 

Capper. I assure you. Miss Pestle, I was just coming to you 
when 

Bertha. Oh, of course. But it doesn't matter. If it is impossi- 
ble to paint two people at once I may as well go. 

Annie. But, my dear 

Capper. Nay, Miss Pestle, consider the picture, pray. Remem- 
ber that I've not put you in at all. 

Annie, {aside) No, but you've put her out, apparently, a great 
deal, {aloud) Then if you go, I suppose I must go too. 

Capper. Oh no, Miss Bingham, I beg that you'll remain at any 
rate. Half-an-hour more will be invaluable. You've no notion 
what a capital position you are in. 

Bertha, {aside) Neither have you. {aloud) There is no necessity 



WHICH IS WHICH f 21 

for you to go, my dear. I'll call for you again directly, so wait 
here till I come. Good morning, Mr. Capper ; or rather, au revoir 
to you both. No, pray don't come down. I can see myself out 
perfectly well. 

Capper. Oh, you must really permit me ! {opening door and 
following her out, C. ) 

Annie. What does Bertha mean by this ? She was not really 
angry ; it was all put on. I fancy she thinks — yes, I'm sure she 
thinks — I know what she thinks. That is why she left so sud- 
denly. 

Re-enter Capper, c. 

Well, has she persisted in going ? 

Capper. Yes, she departed inexorable. Put her best foot for- 
wards, the wakeful one, and was gone, {resuming his palette very 
thoughtfully) By Jove, I was never so surprised in my life. 

Annie. As at what ? 

Capper. Why, at Miss Pestle. I never saw any one so altered, 
and for the worse too. 

Annie. Oh! Mr. Capper, she is considered very pretty. Do you 
mean to say you don't think so ? 

Capper. Well — nothing extraordinary. 

Annie. Why, what would you have ? Her eyes are splendid, 
and then what a complexion ! I am sure she must be all your 
fancy painted her. 

Capper. I don't know about that {half aside) — I suspect there 
was more paint laid on than ever came from fancy's palette. 

Annie. And I should like to know where you'd see such hair as 
that again. Did you not notice it ? It is hair that the more you 
look at it the more you admire it. It really grows upon you. 

Capper, {half aside) Ah, but does it really grow upon her? 
That's the question, {aloud) Oh! I dare say she is all very well, 
but you should have seen her when she was eight or nine years 
old. 

Annie, {with affected indifference) Was the child so pretty ? 

Capper. Pretty ! she was the most perfect httle angel that ever 
appeared was Puffy Pestle — Puffy I used to call her you know ; 
and she used to call me Cobby — angelical for Bobby. Gad ! how 
she is gone off. Those pretty children often do ; take their beauty 
as they do the measles — have it young and get it over. I could 
not have believed it was she. 

Annie. It was curious that you recognised her then. 

Capper, {consciously) Very, very — {frankly) if I had recognised 
her ; but to tell you the honest truth. Miss Bingham, I should not 
have known her from Adam — except for the drapery of course. 

Annie. There ! I knew you didn't. You didn't know whether she 
was Miss Pestle or I — did you now ? 



22 WHICH IS WHICH? 

Capper. Not in the least. I only knew which I should have 
liked it to have been, {aside) I say, take care — take care. 

Annie. Well, she is a sweet girl, and he will be a fortunate man 
who marries her. 

Capper. Why, it's not so very much, is it? 

Annie. Really, Mr. Capper! But the Arts must be a. very lucra- 
tive profession if you can speak of her fortune in that slighting 
manner. 

Capper. Lucrative ! The Arts ! Street-sweeping is coining com- 
pared to it. Ah, Miss Bingham, you don't know what a hard 
ungrateful hfe it is. Poring over a picture till you get almost 
colour bhnd : working your fingers till — till you might play the 
bones without the aid of other instruments than those which Nature 
has provided, and all for the wages of a scullery-maid. 

Annie. You can't be serious, Mr. Capper ! Surely, it's a noble 
profession. Think of the Emperor Charles picking up Titian's paint 
brush. 

Capper. Ay, ay, but those days are gone by. Swells won't take 
us up now, much less our brushes. But, pray forgive me for 
troubling you with complaints of this kind. 

Annie, [aside) Can he be in want of money, poor fellow ? [aloud) 
They don't trouble, me, indeed, except on your account. 

Capper, [aside) What perfect sympathy ! That's just how they 
trouble me. Gad, if I don't keep in mind that she is a poor rela- 
tion, I shall — hem ! [aloud) You are very good ; I'm sorry to hear 
that you are going away so soon. You leave for the North to 
morrow, I think you said. Ah, I'm thinking of going to the North 
myself for a — hem ! for a time. 

Annie. Indeed! whereabouts, if it's a fair question? We are 
going to Perthshire. Do you go so far as that? 

Capper. Yes, farther than that. 

Annie. Dear me ! Up to the very top ? 

Capper. Yes, up to the very top. 

Annie. Oh, Mr. Capper, I envy you. 

Capper. Do you? [aside) Well, that view of it never occurred to 
me before. 

Annie. They say the climate is delicious up there — so bracing. 

Capper. Ah ! bracing, I've no doubt ; but rather cold. 

Annie. Oh ! nothing to speak of, and then the scenery is splen- 
did. 

Capper. Of course ; though there's perhaps a slight tendency to 
sameness of colour ; but what else could be expected up there ? 

Annie, [startled) Where ? 

Capper. At the North Pole, [sweetly) Didn't I say the North 
Pole ? Ah ! I thought I did. 

Annie, [in a disturbed voice) No, you never mentioned the North 
Pole. Gracious, Mr. Capper! What are you going to that dread- 
ful place for ? 



rth 
ire ■ 



WHICH IS WHICH? 23 

Capper, {aside) I declare there is a tone of interest in her voice, 
that — oh! if she weren't a poor relation — or if I weren't. 

Annie. Do tell me, Mr. Capper, what on earth takes you up 
there ? 

Capper. Well, you see, I'm going after the — in fact — Flora 
of 

Annie. Flora ! Oh ! I beg pardon. I'm afraid I have been indis- 
creet. But perhaps I am to congratulate you. 

Capper. Quite the contrary, according to my idea. I think you 
misunderstood me. Our purpose is to investigate the Flora of the 
regions in the vicinity of the North Pole. The expedition is 
botanical, not matrimonial. 

Annie. Botanical ! {evidently relieved) You don't mean to say 
you are going to look for flowers up there. Ha, ha ! What do you 
expect to find ? Snowdrops, I suppose ; and Esquimaux dog 
roses ! Why what a set of frozen-out gardeners you will be ! 
Does the Expedition start from Hanwell, may I ask? 

Capper. Hanwell ! {with importance) Government Expedition, 
I assure you ; capital pay ; everything found ; and only away for 
four years or so, unless delayed by some trifling accident pecuUarto 
those regions. 

Annie, {with real distress in her voice) Four years ! Four — what 
madness ! 

Capper, [aside) If she continues that tone I shall be an engaged 
man before five minutes are over ; I shall, indeed, and that will 
be madness if you like. 

Annie. What can induce you to go upon such a wild-goose chase 
as this, Mr. Capper ? 

Capper, {aside) She can't get the matrimonial notion out of her 
head, {aloud) What induces me ? I'm — I'm obliged to. 

Annie. Where's the necessity ? 

Capper. Here. 

Annie. Here ? 

Capper. Yes ; you see I've strong hopes, if I accompany this 
expedition, to discover a North-west passage by which to avoid — 
my creditors ! Ha, ha ! 

Annie. Creditors! Then you're in debt? {recollecting herself) 
I beg a thousand pardons for 

Capper, {impetously) For what ? For letting me feel that the 
most charming of her sex can take an interest in such a fellow as 
me. {aside) Now what am I saying ? {aloud) I am most grateful 
for your sympathy, my dear Miss Bingham, but pray don't dis- 
tress yourself for troubles of mine. I carry my poverty very 
easily, believe me; I distribute its inconveniences amongst my 
tradesmen, and so secure a fair and equal division of labour. 
They've felt it more than I up to the present time, I assure you. 

Annie. But you don't know how grieved I am. 



2^ WHICH fS WHICH? 

Capper. Grieved ! on my account I When to shield you from 
the slightest sorrow I would — [aside) It's no good, I can't help 
it. Poor relation or not, it's all up with me. 

Annie. Can nothing persuade you to give up this wild project? 

Capper. I only know of one thing -that that will. 

Annie. And what is that? 

Capper. You tell me to stay, [kneeling with one knee on the 
throne and taking her hand — she does not answer) 

Enter Mrs. Mills, C. 

Mrs. M. Mr. Gargle and Miss Bingham ! 

Enter Gargle and Bertha, c. 

Capper. Miss Bingham ! { jumping up) You mean Miss Pestle. 

Gargle. Well, Bob, how have you and Miss Pestle been amus- 
ing yourself, eh ? 

Capper. Miss Pestle ! you mean 

Gargle. Miss Bingham and I are naturally curious to know. 

Capper. Miss Bingham ! you mean 

Gargle. Have you found it possible to propose on a first inter- 
view eh ? 

Bertha. May I wish you joy, Miss Pestle, my dear? 

Capper. Miss Pestle again ! Why — what does this mean ? Isn't 
that Miss — ? Will no one explain ? — and isn't that — ? Which is 
which? [to Bertha) Aren't you Miss Pestle? and [to Annie) 
aren't you — [as a light breaks in upon him) Bless my soul! why 
— Puffy ! [opening his arms) 

Annie. Cobby ! [embrace) 

Capper. By Jove, what a piece of luck ! Why, if I hadn't let my 
heart run away with me, I should have 

Oh, happy chance, when Love and Interest strove 
Which should be guide, that left the task to Love. 
While Interest led, the fortune all my care, 
'Twixt this and that I blundered in the snare ; 
But Love — disdaining thoughts of poor or rich — 
Love led me right, and whispered Which was Which? 



Annie. Capper. Bertha. Gargle. 

CURTAIN. 



L. 



1 



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HELMER'^ 

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